In Fair Weatherfield
by JustAGirl'xo
Summary: Carla Donovan is a spoilt little princess and heiress to Underworld, the world's most successful underwear factory. Liam Connor has worked his way up from the pits of nowhere until deemed ready to take over the rival firm from his father. When he meets his beautiful nemesis, he is mesmerised by her red lippy and homewrecker boots; this is the story of the star-crossed lovers.
1. Chapter 1

**This is an AU fic based on the story of 'Romeo and Juliet', but more exciting ;). Carla is a wealthy heiress with a multimillionaire fiancé and the world at her fingertips. Liam has just taken over the rival firm, and the two companies remain at loggerheads. When Liam meets Carla, two worlds collide, and the pair have to decide between family loyalties and true love.**

**Hopefully not as dull as it sounds :P. I'm still continuing with 'Little Lady'. Reviews would be REALLY appreciated as it helps me to understand what the readers want and don't want, so thanks in advance and I hope you enjoy.**

**Chlo x**

* * *

In Fair Weatherfield

"And so, onto the winter stockmarket. As I'm sure you're aware, Christmastime often leads to a massive overload of orders on the Yuletide market front. Take Ann Summers, for example. In November and December, their production rate increases to a whopping-…" _Blah, blah, blah. _Carla Donovan sighed wistfully, her perfectly manicured fingernail tracing lightly across the Aztec pattern of her thigh-skimming skirt. Gucci, £152. Bargain. She glanced wearily out of the window of the high-rise block of offices to the busy people-packed streets below. Who cared about the increase of knickers sold during December? Who really wanted to know that the festivities and romantic log fires led to a drastic surge of sex, be it extra-marital or otherwise, which naturally triggered the mass production of lacy underwear with ghastly threads of white fluff adorning the waistbands? It was almost Christmas, for goodness sake. Carla wanted to be out on the street with the busy people, splashing her cash in every designer shop and purchasing quaint little decorations for the family Christmas tree. That was the job of an heiress worth millions, right? Wrong. Instead of indulging in a spot of retail therapy, Carla was stuck in a stuffy office with a bunch of fraudsters in fancy suits and horrifically clashing ties who had twisted around in their seats and were now beaming at her expectantly. With the exception, of course, of Mr Anderson, who had instead been ogling her breasts for the past hour and a half. Carla coughed, shooting the dreary speaker a sweet, innocent smile.

"Sorry?"

"We wanted a woman's viewpoint of the production of novelty nightwear." Novelty-…? Oh, Christ, they were being serious.

"In all honesty… I think it's a great idea!" Carla lied, an entirely fake smile plastered across her perfect features. To her relief, the men in the room turned back to the speaker, satisfied, who quickly launched into a one-man debate about the price of push-up bras. Jaded, Carla slunk down in her seat, whipping out her brand-new top-of-the-range smartphone. It was such hard work pretending she gave a damn about the odds and ends of her father's business. She was twenty-two. Most other twenty-two-year-olds would be meeting their mates in the coffee shop beside the train station, not acting all pally-pally with a bunch of strangers she was forced to pretend she'd remembered from their previous meeting. _'HELP MEEEE xxx'_, she texted to her fiancé, multimillionaire Tony Gordon. Despite his lacking in certain departments, Tony was a good guy and was very understanding of her situation. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in business; in fact, she often quite enjoyed bossing people around and nattering on the phone to important clients. But that day, she felt like a child cooped up in school when all her friends were having snow fights in their back gardens. She tried to make herself pay attention to the speaker's babbling, but soon found her mind wandering to the best way of informing him that green certainly did not go with red, regardless of whether or not his presentation was themed around Christmas, Easter or the final of 'The X Factor'. On cue, as ever, a loud rap on the door interjected the silence and Tessa, Carla's father's secretary, appeared.

"Sorry to interrupt. Ms Donovan, Mr Gordon's on line three. He claims it's urgent." Carla sighed and smiled apologetically at the evidently disappointed crowd surrounding her.

"My apologies, I really must take this. My fiancé is a very busy man, as I'm sure you all know." Trying to prevent a smug smirk spreading across her blood red lips, Carla stood and teetered to the door, letting out a deep, relieved breath as she closed it firmly behind her.

"Thank. God. I was considering hauling myself out of the window…" she complained to Tessa, who was used to Carla's skiving tactics, having worked at the company for a number of years. Tessa simply smiled knowingly, nodding towards the phone and resuming her position behind the reception desk.

"Line three." Cheerfully, Carla picked up the phone from the receiver, leaning against the desk and speaking in a very bright tone.

"Mr Gordon, I love you very, very much. You don't understand how unbearable it was in there."

"My darling, as much as I understand your predicament, you really need to start getting used to those presentations. When your father steps down, you'll be on your own," came Tony's gruff Scottish accent, elongating certain vowels and pauses.

"I know, I know. But you know I can do the rest. The stats and the percentages and the cost efficiency, I'll just hire a manager to do the dirty work. Anyway, as I'm now free, I was wondering if you wanted to meet me in town. I've got a lot to do. Christmas presents for your mum and dad, my mum and dad, my brother, your brother, my friends…"

"And me."

"No, I've already got your present, I told you," Carla grinned, twisting the curled cord of the telephone around her slim index finger. Tony's Christmas present was beyond perfect, even if she did say so herself.

"And I have yours. You know I'm a bore to drag round the shops. Just drop into the office on your way home, okay?" Tony replied, before calling instructions to his PA over his shoulder and clattering the phone against the office desk, "Honey, I've got to go and see to something. I love you." The shrill ringing of the beep on the other end of the line pierced through Carla's ears, filling her with dismay. Tony was always busy. Their occasional phone calls were the extent of their so-called love life. Oh well, less whinging.

"Tess, if anyone asks, I've gone to a very important meeting with the wedding planner, okay?" Carla chirped, before heading in the direction of the elevator. She wasn't going to let her relationship problems ruin the day.

* * *

"Ey up, bruv!" a suited and booted Paul Connor called from the doorstep of their new office block as his younger brother Liam pulled up in the car park in his shiny new convertible. Liam smiled, lifting his hand in greeting as the car came to a halt and, within seconds, he was making his way across the cobbles towards his sibling.

"This is nuts!" he exclaimed, beaming delightedly as he stared up at the large building in front of him, "It's all mine…"

"Er, ours," Paul reminded him, "Come 'ere. Your tie's all crooked and you look like you've rocked up off the street." He chuckled to himself, reaching out and retying the knot of Liam's tie. He'd always looked out for his baby brother, and he'd promised to do so ever since their father, Barry, announced that he would hand down his major underwear company to his two sons when he felt the time was right. That day was today. As the brothers made their way through the corridors and hallways towards their joint office, their heads were held high, and for once in their lives they felt in control of the situation. Reaching the large room, Paul instantly bounded over to the desk closest to the window and slipped into the oversized office chair, immaturely spinning around in it before grabbing the morning paper that was laid out in front of him.

"Sweet! Look at the service… Hey, have you seen the morning headline? 'Donovans in turmoil'. The son's been accused of being a druggie."

"I've know that for years. He looks the type."

"There's a picture of him here with the sister."

"Sister? I've never seen her. What is it, Katie, Carrie…?" Liam asked, slowly starting to amble over to his brother.

"Carla. She's pretty. Very pretty. You know, the sort I definitely wouldn't kick out of bed in a hurry," Paul observed, ogling the black and white picture of Carla in a skimpy dress with a lot of skin on display.

"Oh, Paul, be serious. If our Mam found Carla Donovan in your bed, the poor bird wouldn't be the only one being kicked out," Liam chuckled, peering over Paul's shoulder and giving a low whistle. "Ah. I see what you mean…" he sighed, raising his eyebrows in surprise,

"Pity she's the enemy." There was a loud knock, and Gemma, the new secretary, peered around the door, wide-eyed.

"Mr Connor. Your girlfriend's in reception." Liam groaned, tipping his head back and staring at the tiled pattern of the ceiling. Maria, his stereotypically blonde girlfriend, could be summed up in three words: A bloody nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for your reviews :)  
****I hate doing chapters like this. This is a little filler, really, just to finish off the introductions and lead into the next key event. Bear with me!**

* * *

Aimlessly, Maria picked up one of the company's official 'Connor & Sons' pens and turned it over in the palm of her hand, handling it as though it were a prized possession.

"I can't believe it," she sighed, contentedly, "My baby boy's a proper businessman." She twisted her body and, from her position atop his lap, pressed a loud kiss to his perfectly stubbly cheek, coating his skin in a sticky lipgloss. Paul snorted, but quickly tried to disguise it as a throaty cough as Maria narrowed her eyes in his direction. Satisfied with his reaction, Maria began to stroke the pad of her thumb across Liam's chin, adoringly. Paul pulled a disgusted face before tapping out a speedy e-mail to his brother, triumphantly leaning back in his desk chair as he hit 'send'. Maria frowned in puzzlement as the contents of the e-mail spilled out onto Liam's screen.

"Under-ay he-tay humb-tay, 'aby-bay'," she quoted, screwing her nose up in utter confusion as she squinted at the jumbled letters on the screen, "I don't get it." Liam frowned, throwing a sarcastic smile towards his brother as he gently coaxed Maria from his lap and clambered to his feet.

"Paul? A word. Outside," he muttered as he headed for the office door. Within seconds, Paul was by his side, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning against it with a childishly smug smirk plastered across his lips.

"What's up, little bro?"

"Pig Latin, Paul? How thick do you think she is?" Liam asked, folding his strong arms across his chest, clearly irritated. Paul shrugged, his lips twitching and threatening to form a bemused smile.

"Are you really asking me that question and expecting a serious answer?"

"I'm not under the thumb, anyway!" Liam exclaimed, indignantly, before hastily lowering his voice to a low hiss, "So you can keep your sarky comments to yourself." Paul grinned, licking the underside of his thumb and wiping it across the glossy smudge on Liam's cheek.

"Course you're not. Baby boy," he teased, pushing his hand down on the door handle and opening it a fraction, his voice becoming a whisper, "Get rid of her, Lee. We've got far too much work to do to have Dopeyknickers hanging around like a bad smell." With that, the two brothers re-entered the office to find Maria clicking away at the Topshop webpage which had miraculously found its way to the screen. Liam glanced over her shoulder and reached into his pocket as he formulated a plan.

"Hey, sweetheart, instead of window shopping, why don't you take my card into town, ey? Buy yourself something as a treat?" Maria beamed broadly, hopping out of Liam's chair and taking the credit card from between his two fingers, pressing a sloppy kiss against his unsuspecting lips.

"You, baby, are the best boyfriend ever," she cooed, before turning on the heel of her dolly shoes and trotting out of the room. Paul chuckled, shaking his head in astonishment as he watched Maria head down the corridor in the complete opposite direction to the exit, despite the fairly obvious sign right in front of her.

"Good luck with your debts, mate…"

* * *

"D&G, Gucci. D&G, Gucci. D&G, Gucci," Carla muttered under her breath, holding up each designer handbag in turn and admiring it from all angles, unsure of which to buy.

"Definitely Gucci," came Tony's gruff voice from behind her, causing her to flinch in surprise, "You have enough D&G bags to last you a lifetime." Tony took her shoulders between his overbearing hands as she span around to face him and forced a kiss against her lips. Carla cringed, able to taste the flavour of fresh mints in the corners of his mouth. _Try-hard. Get off me._ It wasn't that she didn't fancy him. He wasn't the _least_ attractive man on the planet, and he had more money than he knew what to do with. He was just so… Suffocating. Once he'd released her from his grasp, Carla wiped the back of her hand over her tainted mouth, ridding herself of his taste.

"Tony," she mumbled, "I thought you had to work?" Tony shrugged, returning her question with a casual smile.

"I told them I was spending the afternoon with my girl." He laced their fingers together, brushing his thumb over the ginormous diamond that was situated within Carla's engagement ring which, as he constantly reminded her, had cost him thousands.

"That's very sweet, Tony, but we're saving up for the wedding, remember?"

"We're millionaires, baby," he replied, bending down to her level and waving an outstretched arm across the streets and shops in front of them, "The world is our oyster." _Somebody kill me.  
_

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Besides, I wanted to help you choose something pretty for tonight." Carla groaned, burying her face in her hands as the choc-a-block pages of her diary flashed into her mind.

"The party with the business associates," she grumbled, "I'd completely forgotten. That's the absolute last thing I can be bothered to go to. I hate snobby parties." Tony gave her an annoyingly sympathetic smile, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. If you at least try to enjoy yourself, I'll reward you later on…" he murmured, ominously, triggering a lurch deep within Carla's stomach. _Ugh._ Wanting to distract herself from the vile idea that Tony was suggesting, she wandered over to the large pile of designer shoes towards the back of the room. If she was going to be dragged to some fancy party, she wanted to be dragged in style. Supposedly, all of the big cheeses were attending; the Barretts, the Abbott twins, the Connors. Carla had to admit that she was relatively curious regarding the mysterious Connor brothers, who had taken over their father's business a matter of days ago. She'd neither met them nor seen their pictures in the papers, which usually insinuated that they were struggling, shy or not very photogenic. Either that or they were just trying to keep themselves to themselves. And, despite what she claimed, Carla was looking forward to finding out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you - I can't express how much your opinions mean to me.**

**Here it is. That meeting of fate.**

* * *

_Dull, dull, dull, dull, dull._ Carla tipped her head back and drained the remaining dregs of her red wine before swiftly ordering another. She didn't even want to think about how many she'd already had that evening, and some of the guests had yet to even arrive. When the invitation had mentioned a 'party', Carla had been expecting expensive champagnes and a fancy dinner. Instead, she was stuck in a nightclub with pounding music, the stale stench of sweat in the air and approximately twenty men eyeing up her assets. Apparently, this was 'the casual way of doing business'. Tony was nowhere to be seen, not that she was overly bothered by the fact. His main goal appeared to be irritating her with his constant references to profit margins and his occasional insertion of random, unnecessary facts into every day conversation. He may have been one of the richest men in the country, a former eligible bachelor, but Carla was becoming increasingly grated by him. She smiled thankfully as the fairly attractive barman slid her full glass towards her and, with a light sigh, she lifted it to her lips, having a horrible, sinking feeling that she was in for a very long night.

* * *

"Mate, come on, you've turned into a right sop lately," Paul teased, light-heartedly, hesitating outside the door to the club at which the party was to take place and turning to his brother, a concerned expression plastered across his face. Liam, however, narrowed his eyes, not feeling quite so playful.

"I feel like a right twat. I can't believe I told her not to come. What if she finds out that partners were invited?"

"She won't. Liam, she can barely spell her own name, let alone act as a private detective. Relax, little bro," Paul chuckled, heading, as per usual, directly to the bar on entrance, "I'll buy your drink to make up for it." Liam screwed up his nose and resisted the urge to stick out the tip of his tongue as his eyes skimmed the crowded room. He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of a group of his father's former associates and, wanting to avoid an irritating conversation regarding their memories of him as a youngster, hastily ducked behind a wall separating the club from its cloakroom. Annoyed, he watched as they began to drift across the club and, unfortunately for Liam, stopped directly in front of the door.

"Fantastic…" he muttered, giving a sigh as he rested against the wall and tipped his head back. If there were no other option, he would rather remain hidden than confront the sea of vaguely familiar faces awaiting his arrival.

* * *

"And so it is, just like you said it would be…" Carla hummed under her breath as the Damien Rice ballad blared out through the speakers, the perfect backing track to accompany her slow, boredom-filled walk towards the cloakroom to collect another few £20 notes from her coat pocket in the cloakroom. She elegantly held the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, having filled it yet again, needing to take her mind off of the evening's dreary events.

"Sodding thing…" she muttered under her breath as she fumbled around inside her seemingly empty pocket, flinching as she pricked her finger on a sharp metal keyring. Nervously, she threw a glance over her shoulder before reaching into Tony's pocket instead, fishing out his wallet and unzipping the top, her eyes sparkling as she was greeted with a wad of money.

"Caught in the act…" came an unfamiliar voice from behind her, a silky, Northern accent, not as gruff and toe-curling as Tony's. Panicking, she whirled around, only to be met by the friendly face of a handsome stranger.

"Liam Connor. I've just inherited 'Connor & Sons'," Liam grinned, holding out an open hand which she willingly took in her own.

"Car-"

"I know who you are. The enemy." Carla was noticeably taken about by his comment though within seconds was able to pick up on his teasing manner.

"Ooh, I don't know about that, darlin'," she replied, a faint smirk appearing on her plump, gloss-enhanced lips, "You're not really competition. We are, without a doubt, the leading underwear company in the country."

"I beg to differ…" Liam murmured, his eyes flickering to their joined hands before meeting her eyes once again. Immediately, Carla snapped her hand away and let it fall to her side, her fingers grazing the hem of her Louis Vuitton skirt.

"I'd… I'd better get going…" she mumbled, conscious that her cheeks were beginning to glow a pretty shade of pink, "I might see you later, then." There was a subtle note of hope in her tone and, as she turned on her heel and headed back into the main room, Liam watched her closely, his eyes running over her perfectly tanned legs, trim waist and exotic hair in astonishment. Be it clichéd or otherwise, she was much more stunning in the flesh. In fact, the luscious colour of her flesh itself was enchanting and Liam prayed that he would, as she'd said, see her later.

* * *

Tony glanced impatiently at his Armani watch as he returned to his former seat at the bar, having stumbled across a former pal on his return from the gents. In his absence, Carla appeared to have disappeared, though he tried to convince himself that she too had probably met an old friend, her father being one of the country's most successful businessmen with a string of high-powered clients. He breathed a sigh of relief as she reappeared by his side a mere few moments later, and she was very glad that he was unaware of how fast her pulse was racing and how shallow each and every breath was.

"And where have you been, my sweet?" he asked, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Looking for my coat. Actually, I think I left it in the car. I'm going to go and have a hunt for it," Carla replied, her mouth uttering the words before she'd even had a chance to think them.

"Want me to come with you?"

"No. No, I'm sure I'll survive." She shot him a cheery, reassuring smile over her shoulder as she headed towards the door and out into the icy night air, her arms wrapping around her torso as a protection from the winter chill. Little did she know that a certain somebody was hot on her heels.

"What are you doing out here?" Liam queried, soon falling into step beside her.

"I could ask you the same question…" Carla mumbled in reply, trying to disguise the fact that the unexpected sound of his voice had caused her body to jolt involuntarily.

"Just making sure the princess was protected from the scary outside world."

"Hilarious. You know, if you and I were better acquainted, I'd have slapped you by now."

"Just you try, sweetheart."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the break, I've been in Cyprus - I hope this makes up for it! Thanks again for taking the time to read and review. :)**

* * *

Carla's eyes shone mischievously as she pressed her back against one of the walls of the building, her teeth lightly sinking into the corner of her lower lip in a seductive manner.

"Don't tempt me…" she murmured, the harsh tone in her voice instantly making Liam feel weak in the knees. Despite this, he was determined to remain powerful against her. He placed the palms of his hands flat against the bricks of the wall, one either side of her head, and drew his face in so close to hers that she was able to feel his minty-fresh breath against her hot skin.

"Oh, darling, 'tempting' is what I do best…" he whispered. Carla's lower lip began to quiver with a concoction of nerves and lust, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that she was terrified that he would be able to hear each and every thud. They were engulfed in silence. Music from the party was still blaring out from the bar, groups of people were milling around outside, laughing, smoking, stumbling into gutters having poured out of the nightclub over the other side of the rode. But to them, nobody else was around. And, naturally, these same rules applied as Liam slipped a strong hand under her chin, tilting her lips to meet his in a single, loving kiss. He reached down for her hands and raised them, pinning them above her head as he ran the tip of his tongue across her soft lower lip until she eventually parted them to give him access. Soon, the pair were caught up in a whirlwind of passion; one of his hands had entangled itself in her long, exotic hair; her legs were cleverly positioned between his; their torsos and hips were firmly pressed together as if magnetic, stimulating a series of intense groans from deep inside Carla's throat. Liam's tongue massaged against hers, his other hand now falling to her hip, where it crept its way up her top, his fingers brushing her stomach and causing goosebumps to appear all over her body under his touch. The ardent pair had attracted a fair amount of attention from drunken passers-by who had stopped to wolf-whistle at them – thankfully, nobody they knew, Tony in particular, had stepped foot outside the bar. Carla felt as though her mind was entirely blank. She could think of nothing but him, taste nothing but the delicious flavour of his mouth, smell nothing but his overpowering aftershave; overpowering in a good way, in contrast to Tony's bitter odour. Gradually, their kisses slowed, becoming nothing but fierce pecks that he was delivering to her lips, eventually stilling to nothing. Liam was too mesmerised by the raven beauty to gasp for the breath that he so desired, especially as she drew in for a second time, this time simply catching his lower lip between her front teeth before releasing again. It was a while before either party spoke.

"It's been nice meeting you, Liam Connor…" Carla murmured, her main intention being to slip out of the little fence of lust that he had created and return to Tony to be his loyal arm furnishing once again. Reluctantly, Liam took a step back, allowing her to exit; however, it took her a good ten seconds ago to force herself to tear her eyes from his.

"Give me your arm," she demanded, whipping a black biro from her pocket. He followed her instructions, and she scribbled her number across his lower arm, creating a tingling sensation in his hand as her pen rolled over his throbbing vein. She shot him a surprisingly shy smile before moving back inside at a fairly speeding pace, eager to return to Tony before suspicions arised.

* * *

"Oi! Have you seen our Liam?" Paul asked his little sister Michelle as she sashayed past. It was safe to say that she was pretty drunk. She had a four-year-old son whom she had given birth to at the tender age of sixteen, preventing her from sharing many nights out with her siblings. She furrowed her brow and slowly shook her head, her unsteady eyes darting around the colourful blurs in front of her.

"Noo… I don't know. They all look like Liam to me…" she replied, cocking her head to one side and squinting in an attempt to try and make sense of the situation in front of her. Paul sighed, exasperated, concern etched across his features as he strained to remember if his brother had mentioned a reason for leaving. He could think of nothing. As far as he was concerned, Liam had disappeared without a word or a trace.

"Forget it. Go back to your drink…" he grumbled, pushing his way back through the crowds and leaving Michelle completely lost in a sea of bodies. His eyes scanned over the various faces in the room, some familiar, some previously unseen, but not once could he spot the mischievous eyes and charming grin of his younger brother. The only rational explanation was that he'd gone outside to get some fresh air, made to feel nauseous by the stench of sweat, masked by the unpleasant waft of aftershave.

* * *

Tony had been so relieved to have Carla reappear at his side without harm that he had instantly ordered them another drink each, she a vodka and tonic and a pint of bitter for himself (ironically matching the whiff of his aftershave). Carla gave a little jump of surprise as her phone vibrated in her lap and an unknown number flashed across the screen. She placed her half-empty glass down on the bar and glanced at the message, having to hold the screen close due to her alcohol-induced blurred vision. _'Guess who?xxx'_. A secretive little smile played on her lips as she was once again able to taste the mint on his breath, the handsome scent of his aftershave, which she now recognised as being Calvin Klein. _'I don't need to guess' _she texted in reply _'I've got brains as well as beauty, remember?'. _The few minutes after she'd hit the 'send' button were agonizing. Never before in her life had she found herself staring at the screen of her phone, praying that a reply would pop up. When her wishes came true, her heart lurched, and she hastily read over the not-so-subtle message that flashed before her eyes: _'If your brains match your beauty, then Einstein had better watch his back xxx'_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry if the ending of this is a tad rushed, I was determined to post it before going out! Hope you like it, though. :)**

* * *

Paul groaned, banging his forehead several times against his plastic-topped desk, his brain feeling as though it were about to explode. He hadn't managed to find Liam the previous night and could only assume that he'd, being the player that he was, pulled and had awoken in the bed of yet another pretty girl. Paul himself, however, had put the long-awaited evening to good use and had mingled with several high-powered business associates – in fact, he was fairly proud of his efforts. He'd managed to drag himself into work that morning in spite of a raging hangover, though his fugitive younger brother was nowhere to be seen. Liam had crashed on his cousin Tom's sofa, having stayed around the bar in the hope of bumping into Carla until a ridiculously early hour of the morning. He had been texting her non-stop, breaking only for a mere three or four hours of necessary sleep, and their conversations had started to grow dirtier and flirtier by the minute. His face was indiscreetly smug as he strutted into the office that morning, the effects of the obscene amount of alcohol that he'd drank the previous night numbed by his social success. Paul glanced up from the squalor that was his desk, papers strewn across it and a couple of bold coffee mug rings beside his computer keyboard.

"Where've you been?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up, though inside he felt secretly relieved.

"In bed."

"Don't be a cheeky git, Liam. You had me worried. You and I both know that you're incapable of looking after yourself." Liam ignored his dig as he took a seat in his office chair and immaturely span around a couple of times. He had to bite down on his lower lip to prevent a wide grin spreading across his face.

"What?" Paul asked, his face falling, "Liam, what have you done?"

"Nowt—"

"Or is it more a case of, "Liam, who have you done?""

"Nowt and no one. I stayed out a bit late and went to Tom's gaff instead because I didn't want to wake you up by stumbling in at crack. I'm sorry. Next time I won't be so considerate," Liam muttered, though his face lit up at an innuendo-filled message flashed up on the shiny new screen of his phone. Paul watched him, suspiciously, choosing to say nothing. Their identical sets of blue eyes flickered towards the office door as they heard commotion outside.

"I don't give a flying one whether I need an appointment or not," a man's voice snapped, gruff with apparent anger. Suddenly, the man burst into the office, and as he glared at the brothers with furious eyes, a flicker of recognition crossed Liam's face; this was Rob, Carla's errant little brother.

"You can't just burst in here like that, nor give out a torrent of verbal abuse to our staff!" Paul cried, indignantly, rising from his seat. Liam, however, was restrained, not tearing his eyes from Rob for a second.

"It's alright, Paul," he responded, "Let him say what he has to say." Rob didn't need telling twice. He took a few steps towards Liam and stuck his face only millimetres from his, so close to him that Liam caught little beads of spit on his cheeks as he spoke.

"I saw you with my sister last night," Rob growled, "And I aint having it. You stay away from her. I'm a bit interested in the words of Hebrews, you see. An eye for an eye and all that malarkey. So if you give a toss about your sister at all, you'll lay off mine.

"That's enough!" Paul hollered, gripping onto Rob's leather jacket and hauling him away from Liam, throwing his arms out to the sides and ushering him to the door.

"I've said my piece, anyway," he snarled, spitting into the bin as he passed, "Watch your back, Connor." With that, he strode out of the office and slammed the door shut behind him, causing the walls to tremble in fear and a wad of papers to topple down from their position on the shelf.

"Carla Donovan?" Paul scoffed, shaking his head in despair, "Are you off your flipping head?"

"She's pretty. You said so yourself."

"There's a difference between pretty, bro, and untouchable. A very big difference."

* * *

Carla breathed a heavy sigh out through her parted lips as she fingered the jewelled case of her top-notch mobile phone, watching the screen for the first sign of a reply from her virtual love interest. It wasn't as though she had anything better to be doing besides wait for her father and Tony to reappear from one of the meeting rooms. They'd been in there for a good hour or so, discussing all aspects of the upcoming wedding, from invitations to table décor. It was as though the marriage were a business deal rather than an eternal proclamation of 'love', and Carla was irritated that her views were being entirely overlooked. If she were to have her way, she'd not be marrying the man at all. Her phone rang shrill, interrupting her thoughts and causing her to jump out of her skin.

"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver, despite having recognised her brother's number.

"Carla. I need to talk to you. Meet me in half an hour outside the office blocks?" came the rather rushed reply.

"Rob, I can't, I'm waiting for Dad…"

"This is urgent, okay? You have to meet me."

"Okay, okay! Give me five minutes and I'll be down there. Honestly, Rob, this had better be bloody good…" Carla hung up the phone and tucked her hair behind her hear, puzzled by her brother's panicked tone. A flurry of worries hit her: was he in trouble with the police again? Was there problem with their mother? Had he found out some information regarding the enemy Connor brothers? The thought of Liam's husky tone, boyish expression and sensuous lips sent a little shiver of longing through Carla's body, which she tried to push to the back of her mind. There was no time to ponder her feelings for a man she'd probably never see again outside of a business meeting. She had to find out why Rob was so worried – after all, family was the upmost important thing in the life of a Donovan.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm not overly thrilled with this chapter, particularly the ending, but I'll leave it to your judgement :(. I was wondering what I should do for the next and would love some opinions; skip forward to the following morning, adjust the fic's rating and write about their night together or post the details of the night in a separate fic? Enjoy!:)**

* * *

"About flamin' time…" Carla muttered, tapping the empty space on the bench beside her as Rob approached from the other side of the street, his expression notably gruffer than usual. Central Manchester was bustling yet again that morning, with Christmas being a matter of weeks away. It was already the second of December, and it seemed that fellow Northerners had left their shopping sprees until the very last minute, as per usual. Carla's eyes darted around the shop windows facing her, her eyes falling on a stunning little white lace dress, not something she'd usually be caught dead in but tempting all the same. On reaching her, Rob stood stock still, not in the mood for an intimate conversation with his older sister.

"This won't take a minute. I'm not going to pretend I didn't see you trying to swallow Liam Connor whole last night," he said, curtly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and narrowing his brilliant greeny-blue eyes into venomous slits. Carla's body instantly became rigid, a bright scarlet colour filling her cheeks.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, her voice falling to nothing more than a whisper as she attempted to conceal their conversation from the passing crowds.

"Oh, nowt. Just know I've been round to speak to the bastard, and rest assured that he won't be bothering us again," Rob growled, his fingers clenching into fists.

"What have you done?!" Carla demanded, her eyes growing to be as large and round as saucers at his threatening words. Rob shrugged, a small smirk spreading across his lips.

"Dunno. Can't remember, it were all a bit of a blur. Which, I'm sure, will be your pathetic excuse for what you did last night. You realise that our dads have despised each other for nearly twenty years?"

"How could I forget? His name's a swear word at our gaff. 'What the Barry Connor are you doing?' is something Dad screams at me on a regular flamin' basis."

"Then you must be some kind of idiot, because I don't think jumping into bed with his son is the best way to get into Dad's good books."

"I didn't jump into bed with anyone! And anyway, I'm the one taking over the business, not you, so lay off," Carla snapped, pushing herself to her feet and sashaying in the direction of the designer clothes-store opposite, drawing her iPhone from her pocket as she did so.

"That's it, run off and meet your secret little loverboy," Rob sneered, but Carla ignored his words as she typed out a quick message to Liam:  
_'Free tonight? Meet me at the little Italian on James Street at 8. Keep it zipped xxx'_. Within minutes, she received an eager reply:  
_'Sure thing, sweetcheeks. I can't wait. Xxxx'_

* * *

Paul snorted, leaning back against the wall of the hallway of the family home and folding his strong arms across his chest, watching his little brother fastening the buttons of his shirt in the long mirror in amazement.

"I can't believe you're actually going through with this…" he scoffed.

"Yeah, well, she's a decent bird, and the conversation is bound to stretch past Maria's typical four-word responses. And remember what I said, Paul: If Mum gets back before I do, I've gone to Mackie D's with Tom and Jamie to talk about Malaguf next summer, alright?" Liam responded, giving Paul a firm reminder of their cover story. He was well aware that if his mother discovered who he'd really been seeing, it'd spell the end of his freedom for eternity.

"What if you end up spending the night at her gaff?"

"I won't. She lives with her parents. Besides, it's only our first date."

"So? Never stopped you before," Paul smirked, running his chubby fingers through his dark brown hair, "Well, mate, I can't say I approve. But you're not a little kid anymore, are you? You're all grown up." Liam kinked an eyebrow, meeting Paul's sarcastic gaze in the mirror and making a 'tssk' sound with his tongue.

"Whatever, Mum," he replied, mockingly, rolling his eyes and grasping the doorhandle in his hand, "Enough of the sentimental bollocks. I'll see you later."

"Remember what we talked about, young man, don't forget to use protection!" Paul teased but, luckily, Liam had already slammed the front door shut and vanished into the night.

* * *

Propped up at the bar, Liam ordered himself another pint of bitter, trying to disguise his humiliation at having been stood up. His eyes darted around the restaurant in hope of spotting Carla lost amongst the crowd, but to no avail. It was clear that he had been tricked by the enemy. He felt an intense anger bubbling away inside him at the thought of Carla and Rob chuckling over their masterplot, at evening out the score between them after his father's mean prank at the Plus-Size convention earlier that year. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a raven-haired girl dressed in white lace and dripping with diamonds approaching, her figure forming a perfect hourglass and her smile bright enough to give any watcher sunburn. It was Carla, looking stunningly innocent in her new dress and snatching his breath away once again. Mesmerised, Liam rose to his feet, scanning over her body and nodding, evidently impressed.

"You look…" he trailed off, lost for words.

"Nice? Classy? Too dressy?" Carla prompted, stopping millimetres in front of him, one designer-clad foot poised in front of the other.

"I was thinking beautiful…" Liam murmured, both unable and unwilling to tear his eyes from her smooth, tanned legs, her flawless complexion, her plump, ruby lips and her ample chest. She smiled, her eyes glimmering underneath even the dim lighting of the restaurant, clearly for the purpose of a romantic atmosphere. He wondered briefly if she had chosen this restaurant for that specific reason, but decided not to think too much of it, instead returning to feel flattered at her offer. For a moment, there was a deathly silence between them, the soft sounds of Italian music and low murmurs morphing into one blur.

"… Drink?" Carla asked, disturbing the peace and heading over to the bar, flashing the barman a charming smile and instantly sealing herself a large bottle of champagne on the house. Liam shook his head in disbelief, knowing that he was in for one hell of a night.

* * *

"So…" Carla murmured, scanning her eyes over the contents of the bill in front of her. £65. It had been fine dining to new extremes, "What is this, exactly? I mean, this can go in one of three ways. If you pay, there's clearly something worth fighting for. If we split the bill, we're a couple of mates and we'll leave it at that. And if you make me pay, then I'll make damn sure that I'll never, ever see you again." Liam grinned, popping open his wallet and sliding three £20 and one £10 notes into the centre of the table, topping the pile with a couple of shiny new pound coins.

"You can put your purse away, darlin', this one's on me," he said, scraping his chair back and standing before holding out an open hand and helping Carla to her feet, "Enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah. It was alright. Good company…" Carla replied, biting back a smirk. Her hand still in his, he began to circle her knucklebone with the soft pad of his thumb. Both stared deep into each other's eyes, not to see their own reflections, but because it sent warm rushes of blood through both of their bodies. Slowly, Liam reached for her other hand and took a minute step towards her.

"Well, I thought that the company was pretty amazing…" he whispered, his breath hot against the skin of her cheeks. His eyes fell from hers and instead focussed on her glossed lips as he drew in close and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Carla's heart was, by this point, pounding spectacularly inside her chest, so hard and fast that she was sure that it could be heard by every soul in the room. As she reluctantly broke their lip contact, she gulped, little goosebumps smothering her body at her next words.

"Liam? Come to bed with me tonight…" she breathed. Liam nodded, slowly.

"Where?"

"My fiancé, Tony, he's working in London and I've got a key to his flat. No one has to know…" she said, lacing their fingers together and leading towards the main door of the restaurant, not once withdrawing her gaze from his. Liam, meanwhile, drew in a deep breath, thankful that he'd taken the time to do a spot of research and had discovered her relationship with multimillionaire Tony Gordon. His lips curved up into a smug smile; he couldn't wait to see the expression plastered across Paul's face when he returned home the following morning and spilled the gossip on his steamy night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all your comments! I've never written smut before, so any reviews on my writing style here would be MUCH appreciated for future reference. The naughty stuff is in italics. I really hope you all like it! You will rarely see the words 'cock', 'pussy' or 'arse' in my work, nor jargon like 'penis', 'vagina' or 'clitoris'. This is a story, not a clinical biology book. Obviously, there is a time and a place for all the hardcore stuff, but I feel that writing in my style is less pornographic and more artistic. Sorry if it's not to your taste!**

* * *

_By the time they had reached the flat, Liam and Carla were engulfed in a flurry of kisses, their tongues darting longingly in and out of each other's parted lips. Frantically, Carla stumbled over the mountains of expensive shoes in the cloakroom and lead Liam through the perfectly-organised living room towards the bedroom door, tugging him by his shirt. Liam gave a low hum of approval as he broke the kiss for a brief three seconds to push open the door before roughly guiding her back against the bed, which was topped with silky black sheets, and causing a little giggle to escape Carla's mouth. He crawled atop her and fiercely kissed her once again, running his tongue along her lower lip in a bid for re-entry. Unsurprisingly, she obliged. Her fingers hastily began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, her long, red nails scratching at the soft skin beneath as she went, sending a surge of longing to the lower half of Liam's body. He began to scatter desperate kisses along her jawline, down her neck and towards her collarbone, digging out her bra strap from the fabric of her dress and clenching it between his teeth. She gave a soft whimper in permission, giving him the encouragement that he needed to slide a hand underneath her back and unzip her little lace dress. In one swift movement, he fingered the hemline of her dress before effortlessly tugging it over her head, allowing her long, dark hair to flow free across her almost-naked body, dressed in nothing but a matching set of sheer underwear. Liam's eyes darkened with lust as he feasted his eyes over her tanned, toned stomach and pert breasts, the latter of which he was hungry to see in finer detail. Once again, he moved his hand behind her and expertly unclipped the hooks on the back of her bra, guided the straps over her shoulders and relieved her of her confinements, tossing them to the floor. In response to her appearance, his hips gave a unexpected jolt of need; he was able to feel something stirring underneath the fly of his trousers, confirmed as Carla scanned her eyes over his now-bare torso and came to rest on the large bulge at the centre of his groin. Seductively, she slowly ran her tongue over her upper lip, causing Liam to shudder in utter delight. He pushed his lips to hers in a bout of passion, his tongue sliding between her lips and beginning to massage against hers, stimulating the release of a low groan from the depths of her throat. Her fingers blindly crept their way down his muscular stomach and came to rest over the button of his trousers, which she fumbled with for a moment before successfully sliding out of its socket. She slipped her thumbs underneath the waistband and guided them down his thighs and, with his help, managed to rid his body of them and instead toss them into a pile on the bedroom floor. Clad only in his boxers, Liam's lustful state was entirely clear, and Carla's stunning green eyes widened as they took in the sheer size of his tempting bulge. He was at least twice the size of Tony. Tony had never made her entire body tremble with lust the way that Liam seemed to, and he'd certainly never made the little blonde hairs along the back of her neck stand on end as she felt his warm breath on her throat. Carla, however, decided that she would restrain herself for as long as physically possible. A little smirk spread across her lips as she slid a single finger underneath the black waistband of his boxers and stroked it along the length of his abdomen, making his hips buck in urgency._

_"Fuck…" he hissed, fixing his eyes on her ample chest as he wriggled his hips slightly and attempted to regain control of his body's reactions, _

_"Don't be such a tease, because I can be just as bad…" At a torturously slow speed, he traced the tip of his finger from her kneecap and along her inner thigh, brushing it across the crotch of her underwear and causing her to moan in pleasure and tense her muscles._

_"You really don't need to try and turn me on…" she muttered through gritted teeth, her heart pounding dramatically inside her chest, "I'm… I'm soaking wet for you already… Can you feel?" Her blunt words sent a ripple of lust through his stomach, and Liam eagerly slid his finger underneath the leg of her underwear and along her naked length, whimpering as he felt the extent of her moisture – it was a huge ego boost to know that her current state was the work of his fumbling fingers in the taxi. Both Liam and Carla knew that they needed each other right that second, and all thought s of girlfriends and fiancés vanished from their dirty minds as they desperately tore each other from their remaining items of clothing. As she laid eyes on his fully exposed entirety, Carla gasped, her eyes sparkling hungrily._

_"I want to feel you inside me…" she whispered, her lower lip quivering. Not needing to be told more than once, Liam positioned himself so that he would be at a perfect able and, in one single thrust, he moved himself inside her. Carla gave a low, throaty groan as his length instantly filled her, something which Tony had never been able to master. Liam, too, was ecstatically surprised as he felt her tightness surround him, able to brush against every inch of her with his deep thrusts. He slipped into a fast-paced rhythm almost instantly, and their two bodies moved as one as she tried to consistently keep in time with him. Liam began to press frantic kisses against her chest as the friction between them sent ripples of intense pleasure through his lower body. He began to circle the tip of his tongue around the large mounds of flesh, paying particular attention to the little bumps that he knew were extremely sensitive and would cause her to judder in delight. As he gripped the bumps between his lips and gently sucked on them, Carla gave a deep moan of pleasure, a wave of bliss coursing through her abdomen as she began to feel a tingling sensation spread through her body. _

_"God…" she growled, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as he repeatedly hit one of the most pleasurable spots inside her body, her fingers curling into fists and gripping the loose bedsheet beneath her naked body. The pleasurable feeling caused her to tighten her inner muscles around him, and in response he cried out her name, laced with a few strong swear words, in delight. A few drops of pre-cum teasingly trickled inside her._

_"Car-Carla…" he stammered, battling with his body to stay in control, "I… Oh, fucking hell, need to…" Urgently, he slid his hand down her body until his middle finger came into contact with the little bud that would instantly tip her over the edge – he began to slowly circle it with his fingertip, making her body thrust in ecstasy as she felt her body near its peak. "Carla… Come for me, baby…" His words and actions were enough to send her into a mindblowing climax; after freezing for a brief few seconds, she let out a string of bliss-filled groans as her hips began to buck uncontrollably, her body jarring as a wave of pleasure rushed over her. The instant he felt her body stiffen, Liam too released his orgasm, forcing himself deep inside her and discharging a warm jet of liquid inside her body, only enhancing her ecstasy. Together, they continued to roll their hips against each other's, enjoying one another's hyper-sensitivity and using both their hands and lips to elongate their precious seconds of intimacy._

* * *

"Fuck," Liam said, shortly, his words engulfed in hot, sharp pants as he crashed down to the duvet beside her, thoroughly exhausted by their coupling.

"Is that a good 'fuck', or a bad one?" Carla ask, biting down on her lower lip as a grin began to spread across her face and light her emerald eyes.

"Oh, that was definitely a good fuck," Liam chuckled, rolling over onto his side so that he was able to admire her stunning features closely. He took her hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over her knucklebone. "It's a nice place your boyfriend's got here."

"Fiancé."

"My mistake. Good-looking, is he?"

"Not particularly. Our parents are family friends, this marriage has been on the cards since I was twelve. He's a nice bloke and he'll look after me, I reckon that's all that matters. Anyway, don't be getting all self-righteous with me, please, rumour has it that you're got some pretty, blonde girlfriend," Carla replied, her dark eyebrows arching as she waited with baited breath for what she hoped would be a denial.

"Girlfriend-shmirlfriend," said Liam with a nonchalant shrug, "She doesn't make me feel half as good as you just did…" He brought her hand up to his lips and turned it over, pressing a soft kiss to the underneath of her wrist. Slowly, he started to work his way up her arm, peppering her pale-yet-flawless skin with kisses.

"You can't just say that, however rich you are…" Carla mumbled, though she didn't stop him from continuing to work his way up her body.

"What was that you said about self-righteousness? At least I haven't made a lifelong commitment to the woman. You're getting hitched."

"Well, yeah, but… It's more of a marriage of convenience. I mean, I like him, I really like him, but there's no spark."

"You mean like the spark between us?" Liam asked, his lips dangerously close to her ear. He stuck out his tongue, running his tongue along the outer rim, nibbling gently as he reached her earlobe, causing a violent shiver of lust to course through Carla's body.

"Exactly like that," she murmured. Smirking, Liam shifted his body so that he was leaning over her, his legs between hers, which he'd guided to bend at the knee.

"Ready for round two?" he asked, his voice husky with longing. At her nod, he began to run his large, pleasantly warm hands up her thighs, his thick fingers edging closer to her centre and thus beginning their blissful encounter once again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello :) Thank you so much for all of the reviews! I don't know if I'm 100% happy with this chapter as it was written in two shots and it's very late! I haven't been able to proof-read it yet, so sorry for any typos! A bit of a dull chapter IMO, but contains mild+ language and sexual references.**

* * *

The sharp, serious words of her father passed over her like a high-flying bird, seeming like nothing more than a few incoherent babbles about the new nightwear range. Nothing could disturb the pleasant feeling inside her heart that morning after the passionate night before. Every time she tried to focus, her mind ended up wandering to the burning hot touch of Liam's skin; his heavy pants and gasps; his moist lips enclosing hers. It made hundreds of goosebumps appear across her pale skin in lust.

"Young lady, have you listened to a word I've said?" Richard Donovan sighed, turning to his absentminded daughter with a disappointed frown on his face.

"Sorry, dad," Carla grumbled, shooting one last glance out of the office window to the traffic-ridden streets below. As she shifted her body into a more attentive position, her mobile phone buzzed frantically in her pocket, causing her hip muscles to tense. Though she desperately wanted to check it, she did not want to risk her father's venomous glares.

"Carla, this is your future. I can quite easily hand the business over to Rob instead, as much as it would pain me. Is it Tony? Has something happened? The wedding's still on, isn't it?" Carla could detect a hint of panic in Richard's tone, and knew deep down that he was concerned for his own social status rather than the wellbeing of his only daughter.

"Like you'd allow that to happen," she scoffed. Satisfied, Richard turned to his dreary spreadsheets, while Carla fished her phone from the pocket of her pencil skirt, which she'd teemed with a peplum top with a houndstooth design and a chic pair of black court shoes. Secretly, her eyes flicked to the flashing screen and the heart-stopping words '1 missed call from Liam Connor' etched across it.

"Daddy? I have to take this call. It's from… The seamstress. She wants to know when she'll be able to start taking up the wedding dress that I haven't even bought yet," Carla lied, pushing herself to her feet and, ignoring her father's indignant grumbles, stepped out of the room. She pressed her phone to her ear after dialling her answerphone and listened carefully. As she heard the deep, seductive tones of her conquest, the tiny little blonde hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention.

"Morning, beautiful," said the voice, "I can't stop thinking about last night. I think we need a rematch sometime. Don't call me until lunchtime, then we can arrange something. Don't miss me too much…" Carla smiled faintly as she returned her phone to her deep pocket, his words playing over and over again in her mind. She was dying to see him. Not only was she longing for a repeat of the previous night, but she was also after a cuddle, a kiss, anything to prove that last night had been more than just a drunken fumble, as Liam had claimed. She couldn't think about Tony. Not now she was aware of just how pleasure-stimulating other men in the world could be, having missed out on many mingling years with them. With Tony, though his bedroom antics had left her satisfied to a degree, she'd yet to be truly filled with an intense climax. During her first encounter with Liam, however, he'd made her come. Twice. Therefore, it was only natural that she was counting down the minutes until their phone call with anticipation.

* * *

"You're all smiles today, aren't you?" Pal observed, suspiciously eyeing up his smirking little brother from his seat on the opposite side of the room, "What's going on?"

"Nowt," Liam replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't believe that for a second. It's her, isn't it?"

"Who?"

"Carla flamin' Donovan!" Paul exclaimed in exasperation, giving a small groan as he banged his forehead into the palm of his hand, "Tell me you didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, you know exactly what I mean, Liam." Cheekily, Liam didn't reply, simply shooting Paul a mischievous grin before returning to the email on his computer screen.

"Oh, Liam…" Paul sighed, shaking his heavy head in disbelief, "I don't believe you, bro. Dad will go nuts if he finds out!"

"Yeah, well, he won't, will he, Paul? Because you're not going to tell him, are you?" Liam added in a warning tone, his thick, dark eyebrows rising slightly. Deep down, he knew that Paul was far too loyal to become a grass. Clearly stuck for an answer, Paul created a tutting sound with the tip of his tongue as he pushed himself to his feet and sauntered out of the office, needing some space from his defiant younger brother. Just in time, as the shrill ringing of Liam's mobile phone pierced the businesslike atmosphere in the room. Glancing at the time, Liam noted that it was almost half past eleven, and answered the incoming call with eagerness.

"Hello, sexy," he greeted the caller in his usual charming manner, "How can I help you?"

"You wanted me to call…" came Carla's sharp reply, the undertones of her voice causing Liam's mouth to instantly run dry.

"So I did. Tell me… What are you wearing?"

"Dress. Tights. High heels. Underwear."

"Lacy?"

"Absolutely."

"Suspenders?"

"Mhm."

"Fuck…" Liam muttered, running his tongue over his upper lip as he felt a little twitch arise from inside his jeans, his mind instantly picturing his conquest in her skimpy underwear, "If I had it my way, I'd be right over to do something very naughty to you right now."

"Steady on. You got some last night. Besides, I'm a good girl, remember?"

"Yeah, and I'm Pope Alexander the Third."

"Come on… We can either turn this into a long sexual conversation, with me babbling on about how I'm going to run my tongue up and down you until you come so hard that you can't stand up, blah, blah, blah… Or, you could come and meet me outside my work right now and we could have a mini-lunch date, you know, just get to know each other a bit better…?" Carla offered. At her descriptive vocabulary, Liam shifted his hand over his lap as his prominent arousal became evident, straining against the tight material of his trousers.

"Yeah…" he muttered, gulping somewhat, "Sounds good. Your work at quarter to one?"

"You're on. Catch you later." As soon as he heard the fatal bleeping tone on the other end of the phone, Liam punched the air with his right fist and hollered with success, impressed with his seduction skills. He didn't care whether or not this meeting would lead to the pair toppling into bed together, nor whether they would fill the purpose of getting to know each other; at this point, as long as she was present, he had absolutely no reason to complain.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry it's been so long - updates will be a little slower now I'm back at school. Boo. :(  
Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

"Afternoon, hot stuff," Liam grinned, leaping to his feet as Carla approached from the other side of the jam-packed roads, stiffening in surprise as she threw her arms around his neck, before allowing himself to relax and wrap his own arms around her slim waist. The tips of his thumb and fingers toyed lightly with the high hem of Carla's tweed miniskirt, which had a sheer cream shirt tucked into it, the whole outfit topped off by a pretty pair of black shoeboots which adorned her feet. As she stepped back, Liam allowed his eyes to scan over her, his head nodding firmly in approval.

"You look very nice. Very... French."

"But French is good, right?"

"French is very good. They're right sexpots, the frogs."

"Know that from personal experience, do you?" Carla asked, a knowing little smile forming on her glossed lips as she slipped her hand in Liam's and laced their fingers together. She began to lead him back across the zebra crossing and in the direction of one of her favourite stores, which had a variety of colourful dresses, shoes and handbags displayed in the window.

"Oh, you know me, darlin', attracting hot women from all over the globe," Liam teased, running his thumb over the gloved knucklebone of hand. He kinked an eyebrow at the little shiver that was provoked by the cold, easily missed by a less observant eye, but also noted the spread of goosebumps across her fore- and upper-arms. Quickly, he shrugged off the black blazer that he had been wearing for work and instead draped it over her shoulders, earning a satisfied sigh.

"Thanks..." Carla mumbled, tugging the blazer a little further around her to shield her exposed flesh from the icy breeze. It drowned her, but she was grateful for the gesture. She paused outside the shop window and practically pressed her face to the glass, her heart pounding wildly inside her chest at the beautiful collection of shoes on the floor, a couple of pretty lace dresses hanging from the abnormally perfect bodies of mannequins and, most importantly, a stunning purple scarf, specked with a black design. Carla recognised it immediately; silk-chiffon, Yves Saint Laurent, £405.

"Oh..." she whimpered, pathetically, "That's gorgeous..."

"How much is it?"

"You don't want to know..."

"I do..." Liam replied, approaching her from behind and snaking his eyes around her waist, allowing his chin to rest on her shoulder, "You never know, Santa might decide to slip it in your stocking this year..." At his words, Carla edged herself around to face him, her forehead lightly brushing against his, her brilliant green eyes focussing on his slightly-parted lips. The world rushed by them, nothing but a blur to the star-crossed lovers.

"It's a lot of cash. Over four hundred quid. I'm sure Santa won't want to cough up do much money for something that I can get for two pounds in Primark."

"Maybe this year Santa's feeling especially generous..." Liam murmured, allowing his lips to creep closer and eventually brush against hers, the tenderness of the kiss a major indicator that this was more than a few expensive dinner dates and nights spent together. This was real. Unfortunately for the loved-up pair, a hooded figure was watching from a distance. With his roguish hair and unshaved stubble, Rob certainly looked the part of dangerous, protective younger brother, despite his known wealth and bright white designer trainers. His eyes narrowed at the sight of his sister frolicking with their arch-enemy in broad daylight, their lips locked, their limbs entwined. At that moment, he despised the both of them.

* * *

There was a notable spring in his step as Liam made his way back to the office, his blazer slung over his shoulder, his eyes wide and full of delight. He headed down an alleyway at the side of one of the large office buildings, a shortcut to his own workplace; he was later than expected, having whisked Carla off to lunch at one of the smart little cafes in the centre of town. It had been a very enjoyable afternoon, and it warmed his heart to think that, at that moment, Carla was probably settling down behind her desk, a little flustered after their passionate goodbye kiss, unable to get him off her mind. He smirked to himself, knowing the extreme power that he seemed to have over women. Suddenly, his pleasant thoughts were interrupted as a strong hand grasped the back of his shirt and tugged him towards him before forcing him back against the wall, his face merely inches away, blacked by a shadow created by his hoodie. Rob.

"What the fuck are you playing at, mate?!" Liam spluttered, struggling to breathe as the material around his neck was tightened a great deal. Rob only gripped him tighter, fiercely clenching his teeth.

"Shut up," he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously, "Shut up and listen to me. I told you to stay away from my sister. She doesn't need to be hanging around with riff-raff like you. Imagine what my old man would say if he'd seen the two of you playing tonsil tennis in the middle of the street like a couple of randy teenagers. You'd be served as tonight's main course."

"I'm sorry, alright? But... I like her. I like her a lot, and she likes me. Can't you just let us be happy?"

"No."

"Really, it's none of your business!" Liam cried, though his lips instantly froze as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glimmer, a reflection of the sunlight. It was a blade, a knife. A razor-sharp knife that Rob had just lifted from his jacket pocket and was now turning over in his hand, a wicked half-smile appearing on his lips.

"What's wrong, Connor?" he asked, his voice gruff, "You've suddenly gone all quiet. Cat got your tongue, rather than our Carla? Bless. You're even more of a coward than I thought you were..." He ran his thumb alone the blunt side of the blade, creating a white pressure line on its pad.

"Put it down, Rob. Put it down and we'll pretend this never happened..." Liam mumbled in reply, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his breath grew restless with fear. Rob chuckled loudly.

"And you'll pretend my sister never happened as well, 'ey? Yeah, thought as much. You disgust me, Connor. You disgust me more than your rotten father does, or your slag of a little sister."

"My sister is not a slag."

"Knocked up at fifteen? Or, what, is she the innocent little Virgin Mary?"

"At least she doesn't skulk about threatening people with knives..." Liam muttered, anger bubbling away inside his chest at the reference to his adored younger sister, "So leave her out of this."

"You're the one who's going to be leaving her, 'mate'. You'll be leaving her, and the rest of your family, and, most importantly, my sister," Rob snapped, glancing down at the knife in his hand once again. Liam suddenly realised exactly what he was implying and knew that, if he didn't act quickly, his life would be under threat. So, without thinking, he reached for the knife, not having the time to stop and plan ahead as the whirring of ambulance sirens from a nearby street filled the air...


	10. Chapter 10

**Short but sweet. Would have been longer, but I'm exhausted. Excuse the last paragraph, it probably consists of a load of gobbledygook. I was literally sleep-writing!**

* * *

Whirring. Whirring, blue and red lights flashing fast, giving the streets below an eerie glow. Whirring. The whirring sound of sirens, of his mind as he watched the tragic scene unfold from the high window of his office building. Whirring. And, as he stepped away from the catastrophe, it blurred, before becoming nothing more than someone else's problem. Someone else's hell. It was no longer any business. Though, Liam knew that it'd be no matter of time before somebody, anybody, discovered that he was the guilty party, particularly when he'd been bedding the victim's foxy sister. His eyes were two scarlet stones, cold and emotionless, hiding an internal pang of guilt from every wandering receptionist or machinist who happened to ask him for the time as he passed. He'd managed to reach his final destination unscathed; the bubble that he liked to refer to his office, from which he could watch in awe the consequences of his actions. Or so he'd thought. Having been in his life since the afternoon of his birth, Paul knew his brother as well as he did the back of his own hand. He could tell exactly when he was upset or angry or hurt, and this was most certainly one of those days. Cautiously, he approached him from behind, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder and making him jump a little in surprise.

"What's all that malarkey going on out there, then?" Paul asked, his eyes falling to the flock of ambulance and police service cars, the little antlike people speeding from one side of the street to the other in a matter of seconds. Liam sniffed, ducking under Paul's arm and returning to his familiar seat at his desk, trying to push all events of that day to the back of his mind.

"Rob Donovan's dead," he muttered, shortly, focusing on the few stray sheets of paper sprawled randomly across his desk. Paul could only stare.

"What...?"

"You heard."

"How do you know?" Paul asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Liam groaned internally, a curse word escaping his partially-parted lips. He ignored Paul's question for a while, creating a tense, unbrotherly atmosphere between them.

"I were there."

"You were-... What?"

"It were me, Paul." There was a stunned silence, Paul's mouth flapping open and closed in a fishlike manner. The four words had yet to embed themselves into his mind.

"Liam, I don't understand."

"What is there to understand? I were there when he died. He had a knife, he were threatening me with it and... And I sorted things out. Simple."

"So, wait a minute, you... You... Liam, help me out here, did you... No. No, you couldn't have, surely...?" Liam nodded gravely, gulping and therefore holding back a fresh round of salted teardrops and restraining an outburst of incoherent babbling.

"Yeah, Paul. Yeah, you're right. I killed a man, I murdered him. Whether I felt threatened or not, I still killed the poor bloke. I should have let him take me instead. I'm a murderer, Paul. A cold-blooded flamin' murderer."

* * *

Carla was perched on the edge of her bed, one leg tucked neatly under the other as music pounded away inside her ears through tiny little earbuds conducting sound from her iPod. Thankfully, she'd taken the afternoon off. Whilst she was supposed to be working, she had instead chosen to take the easier route and spend the day researching new Californian stock ideas. Of course, that made the poor, unfortunate PA's job of spilling all about the family tragedy her most challenging yet. As she noticed an intrusion into her private bedroom, Carla plucked her hot pink earbuds from ears and twisted her head to face her, her mind still wandering elsewhere. All she could think about was Liam, the softness of his lips when he kissed her, the heat radiating from his masculine chest as they made love, each gasping for breath yet perfectly eager to share one another's.

"Yeah?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, suspiciously, "I'm allowed to be here, you know. I'm my own boss and I work the hours that I want."

"No, no, this is not about your attendance, lateness or anything else Underworld-related."

"Oh. So, what is it about, then? Come on, spill?"

"It's about your brother." Carla frowned, glancing over her shoulder towards the ajar window and shifting her body closer to it as she became able to make out the faint whirring of sirens in the distance.

"What about him? He's alright, isn't he? Because he knows that, if he wants to stay on my good side, he has to learn to do as he's told and not go about ignoring—"

"No, Miss Donovan, it's not like that at all. This may be fairly difficult for you to digest... Your brother, he... His body was found at two o'clock this afternoon..." the PA replied, shooting Carla a sympathetic look. Carla, however, was eerily still.

"What do you mean? Is he unconscious?"

"No. Mr Donovan is dead. I'm sorry, but there was no other way to put it across."

"But... No. Who would want to kill him?!"

"They don't know. They're looking for fingerprints and items left in the area, but there appears to be no other evidence against one particular person."

"But who would have a motive?! He's my baby brother!" Carla exclaimed, her usually flawless face filling with an angry scarlet shade.

"Well, I'm sure there are plenty of people who your brother has angered over the years..."

"That's not funny! He's my brother. Yeah, he makes a complete cock-up of things at times and he does have a habit of doing the wrong thing, but he's still a good bloke... Or... He was..."

"I'll leave you in peace..." the PA murmured before turning on her heel and creeping out of the bedroom, carefully clicking the door shut behind her. Carla was distraught. Her tiny emerald irises flickered from left to right and back again. She couldn't concentrate or focus. Her vision was a blur. She was still sat on her bed, the angst-filled cries of Evanescence mere faint muffles against the silence that filled the air between she and the rest of the world. Her brother was dead. Her beloved baby brother. She couldn't accept that what she'd been plagued with was true. That he had been brutally killed. Somebody had wanted him dead, and that somebody had managed to get away with murder. Murder. The inhumane murder of her little brother. She couldn't believe that he'd gone, and she wasn't going to rest until she knew the facts, right down to the very last gory detail.


	11. Chapter 11

**I've edited the last chapter a tiny bit :P. This MAY be a bit... unrealistic. Her brother has just died and she's... Well, yeah. I'll let you decide for yourselves, though please let me know what you think! Love for the reviewers 3. Mild-ish sexual content.**

* * *

Carla patted the tear-stained corners of her eyes with a makeup wipe for what seemed like the thousandth time, her eyeliner gathering together and leaving her face fairly plain, yet still unconventionally beautiful. It wasn't as though she had no excuse for being what she described to be a 'complete and utter mess'. Slowly, she pressed down on the doorhandle and dragged it open, peeking through the gap before fully revealing herself. She groaned, raising her hands to cover her face and shield it from the view of the man on the doorstep.

"It's you..." she mumbled, her previously pale cheeks flushing a soft pink with embarrassment. Liam half-smiled, his hands enclosing around her wrists and carefully lowering them, making sure that he didn't hurt her by applying too much pressure. He curved his back so that he was able to look up at her clearly heartbroken expression from a lower angle.

"Hey, sweetheart..." he spoke softly, allowing the side of his index finger to brush across her cheek and catch a stray tear as it fell, "Come on. Let's go inside, hey? Someone will see me out here..." Carla nodded, slowly, avoiding eye contact with him as she slipped her hand into his and led him through the huge hallway and into the living room. After slipping off his trainers, Liam took a seat in the corner of the cream leather sofa and tapped the space beside him, leaning back to the cushioning behind him. A faint smile graced Carla's lips as she sat beside him and curved both knees so that her legs were strewn out beside her, lowering her body until her head fell into his awaiting lap.

"This is hell..." she whispered, her voice crackling as another sob threatened to escape from the depths of her throat.

"Shh... I know, love. I know..." Liam mumbled, his stomach turning with guilt at the emotion in her words. He hated himself. He'd only been seeing her for a mere few days, had not known of her presence for much longer than that, yet he still felt a strong connection to the beauty. He knew that if he was going to confess all, it was to be now or never.

"I just... I need to know who did it..."

"Car, I've got something I need to talk to you about..." At his words, Carla pushed herself into a more upright position, her brows furrowing as her eyes penetrated deep into his. She further shifted her position and instead crossed her legs and turned towards him fully.

"Go on..."

"I... Oh, God, you're going to hate me. I'm so, so sorry, I regret it like crazy. I'd rather die than watch you hurt like this. It would have been a lot less painful for the both of us..."

"Liam, just say it. Say it!"

"We were down in the alleyway, me and Rob. He... He had a knife, and... I was scared, Carla. I was so scared that I was going to die that I didn't realise what I was doing..." Liam stammered, his heart pounding furiously inside his chest as he watched her expression shift from one of sheer confusion to one of terror, horror.

"Don't..." she muttered, scared that she knew exactly what was about to pass his lips. She didn't want to hear it spoken aloud.

"No, Carla, I have to do this. I can't keep it from you any longer. Rob had a knife. He told me that I should have kept my poxy hands off you and said that I were basically dead meat... I flipped. I did what I thought I had to do and I'm sorry."

"You killed my brother."

"I stopped him from killing me!"

"You killed my fucking brother!"

"You think I don't know that?! Carla, I've been able to think of nowt since!" Liam cried, his hands falling to her shoulders, remaining in position as he realised that she had not flinched nor appeared alarmed,

"Carla, I love you, okay? No, we're not one of those couples who have been together for decades or have been best friends since childhood, but it doesn't matter whatsoever. When I'm not with you, as sad as it sounds, it feels as if a massive chunk of me is missing. And I don't want to live without that chunk for the rest of my life, but if you can't bear the sight of me after what I've done, I'd understand and walk away." Carla was silent for a moment, her muscles slowly beginning to relax as the realisation of Rob's part in his own demise began to sink in.

"He tried to kill you..." she repeated, an angry burning sensation bubbling away inside her chest, "My brother, he would have... Murdered you?" Cautiously, she edged a little closer to him and stretched out an arm, the back of her fingers lightly brushing across his stubbly cheek. "God... I'm so glad I haven't lost you..." she continued in a faint whisper, any remains of family loyalty draining out of her soul. Liam gave her a moment to change her mind before slowly leaning forwards and touching his lips to hers, a wave of relief rushing through him. He ran his tongue along her upper lip, which was perfectly slotted between his, and allowed his hands to creep across her body, exploring each and every inch of her clothed form.

"Is this appropriate?" Carla mumbled against his lips, though she knew just how impossible it would be to tear herself from him after the traumatic events of the day.

"I'm just trying to get you to relax..." Liam mumbled in response, guiding her back to lay across the sofa, his own body positioned just over hers, "Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?" Subtly, he allowed his hand to run down her abdomen and pause on her inner thigh, waiting for Carla's little shiver of anticipation before allowing his index and middle fingers to crawl up the inside of her thigh ad stroke teasingly across the crotch of her underwear. Carla swore under her breath as she felt a wave of longing pulse through her veins and dampen the lower part of her body with a much-needed moisture. Liam knew exactly what was going on inside her body; he'd already learnt just how to please her. He moved the crotch of her underwear to one side and allowed only the very tip of his middle finger to dip inside her and smother it with moisture, provoking her to release a deep, throaty groan of lust.

"Liam!" she hissed, "Don't be such a tease!" He smirked, knowingly, as he once again traced his finger along her length, this time letting it gradually sink inside her body and rotate in a small circle within her, her hips bucking against his hand in response. After a few repetitive movements, Liam added a second finger to the game, causing Carla's hips to roll in delight and all thoughts of the horrors of the day to fade from her mind. Until, of course, the weeping sounds of her mother and father echoed into the house and Liam quickly removed his fingers, muttering that he promised to continue from where they'd left off later on that day. The closed off confinement of the living room meant that there was nowhere for him to hide. He was going to have to face the music and the wrath of Carla's overprotective father.

"Shit!" Carla hissed, her eyes wide with fear as she leapt to her feet and glanced around the room, panicked.

"Car, it's okay. They were going to have to find out at some point, anyway. Might as well be sooner rather than later, I suppose..."

"Liam, no. You don't understand. When I spoke to him earlier, he was sure that you, Paul or your dad had had something to do with Rob. He'll go absolutely ballistic if he finds-" Carla was interrupted as the living room door was flung open and her father's tough figure appeared in the doorway, his face flushed with anger having seen Liam's trainers scattered across his carpet.

"You..." he growled, taking fast and furious steps towards Liam and grabbing him by his shirt, holding his face only inches from his, "You little bastard. I'm going to flamin' kill you! First you murder my son, my little boy, and now you're trying to get into my daughter's knickers! And as for you..." he sneered, flicking a disgusted glance in Carla's direction, "I thought we'd taught you about having standards."

"Dad, please, he-"

"Shut up!" her dad roared, causing Carla to bite down hard on her lower lip in self-restraint and back into the shadows as he hauled Liam towards the front door and, once there, outside, "Now, you'll get out and stay out, you here? Come near my daughter again and you'll be joining my Rob. You'll wish I'd taken the soft option and have you put inside for life. Now go home, it's long past your curfew." He grabbed Liam's trainers by the backs and tossed them outside, hammering Liam's body with them as he did so. He bared his teeth at the enemy before taking a step back inside and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Liam alone, his heart pounding rapidly as he wondered what kind of hell Carla was about to have to endure.


	12. Chapter 12

**Short... But I hope it's quite sweet? Thank you for the reviews, I wanted to get this out tonight because I'm in a show all week and updates won't be frequent for any of my fics :(. I hope you like it!**

* * *

The funeral was hell. Acquaintances and business associates from all around the North of England were present, yet Rob's friends were forced to mourn from outside the quaint little church in which the service was held. The 'riff-raff' that he'd spent his young adulthood with were banned by Carla's father. After all, he couldn't have a bunch of drug addicts and knife-wielding yobs giving his precious family name a black mark. As Carla trooped out of the doors of the church alone, her mother and father in pieces steps ahead, her eyes, which had lost their spark, flicker over to the gates and met with those of a girl. A girl she recognised instantly. Emma. By the tears in her eyes, her closed-off body language and the way in which she was an outcast from the rest of the group, Carla knew that she was heartbroken. That she and Rob had been more than just mates to hang around with. God, she'd experienced that painful feeling too many times during the last week. With Liam's banishment tearing her soul in two, since her brother's death, Carla had simply been existing. There was no light behind her eyes, no rosiness to her cheeks. Her expression was etched with grief, and her black dress covered most of her body; the last thing she wanted was to attract attention. As her eyes scanned over the distant form of Emma, it was as though she was staring into some kind of mirror. The young girl looking back at her was pretty, though her face was stripped bare of makeup, and a hoodie concealed most of her flesh. Her eyes were blank. She wasn't a sobbing heap on the floor like some of Rob's other close friends. She was existing, too. Slowly, Carla allowed herself to smile slightly, soon receiving one in return. Heartbreak could unite women.

"Carla, are you okay, sweetheart?" came a familiar voice from behind. It was mature and threaded with concern, the type of concern only felt by a protective grandmother.

"I'm fine…" Carla sighed, gulping down a sob as she felt her gran's hand slip into hers and squeeze it gently.

"You don't look it, angel. Sit here, tell me what's wrong…" her gran replied, leading Carla over to a bench and coaxing her to sit on it before taking a seat beside her. Carla's eyes were fixed on her hands, which were toying with the hem of her dress, in a bid to avoid contact with the one person in the world who knew her better than she did herself. Her gran slipped a hand underneath her chin and tilted her up to look at her, wanting to read her like an open book.

"It's just Rob…"

"It isn't, love. It isn't. Because this is something that you're trying to hide from the rest of the world, and you forget that I'm not just the 'rest of the world'."

"Nan…"

"Carla, listen to me. You can trust me. You can tell me anything and I won't tell your mum and dad. I promise."

"I…" Carla took a deep breath, speedily drawing a table of positives and negatives inside her mind as she considered the consequences of spilling her darkest secrets, "It just this bloke. It's complicated."

"Good-looking, is he?"

"Ridiculously."

"And you've got strong feelings for him…?" her gran asked, lowering her voice so as not to rouse suspicion from nearby relatives and friends of the family.

"Yes."

"Then what's so complicated about that? It seems pretty simple to me…"

"Dad and Mum don't approve…" Carla mumbled, shooting a wary glance over her shoulder to check that her strict father wasn't within earshot,

"Dad thinks he's the scum of the earth…"

"Oh, darling, when will your father ever approve of your boyfriend, 'ey? It just isn't done. But if you like this man, or, dare I say, love him, then you go for it, girl…" her gran smiled, clasping her granddaughter's hands in her own, reassuringly, "I'm always here." Carla nodded, returning her smile with an equal one of her own, the whole situation suddenly making sense. Now, she knew exactly what she was going to have to do.

"Thanks, Nan. You've been a massive help."

* * *

With merely a matter of days to go until Christmas, the ground had become slippery beneath Liam's feet, and his warm breath made puffs of condensed water vapour in the frosty air. He shivered, stuffing his bare hands into the pockets of his jacket as he waited on the corner of the street, having received a phone call only minutes ago.

"You know, there are names for people like you, waiting around on street corners for somebody to come and pick them up," Carla teased half-heartedly from behind. Liam span around, his eyes widening as he took in her bare legs and the flimsiness of her black dress.

"You must be freezing! Why are you dressed like that?" he asked, dropping his carrier bag to the floor and slipping out of his jacket.

"Rob's funeral."

"Oh…" he mumbled as he draped his jacket over her shoulders and held it closed over her chest, which he noticed was trembling from the cold,

"Carla, I'm—"

"Don't say it," Carla interrupted, grateful for the source of warmth, "Just… Don't. I'm supposed to be doing the talking. Look, Liam, I've tried to move on, okay? But… I just can't. I can't give this up. We'll just have to be secretive about it…" Liam breathed an instant sigh of relief before pressing a swift, dangerous kiss to her awaiting lips. He bent his body and grabbed the carrier bag from the floor, handing it to her with a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Good, because I got you something…" Carla opened the bag and peaked inside, her heart giving a jolt as she caught a glimpse of the pricey purple Yves Saint Laurent scarf that she had fallen in love with a week prior.

"Liam…" she breathed, her eyes darting upwards and meeting his. Liam shook his head and touched a finger to his lips.

"Shh. We're meant to be a secret. So you can come to mine now, because everyone's out, and we can have coffee and maybe a few sneaky snogs here and there…" Eagerly, Carla laced her fingers through his, and together they continued down the path that would lead to Liam's expensive family home. She would have been a fool to turn down an offer that would distract her from the horrific reality of her baby brother's funeral. An offer made by his killer. She was falling further and further into a dangerous situation that would end badly, whatever happened.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you so much, reviewers! I need to proof-read this, I'm tired, so sorry for the typos! :'(**

* * *

Each and every loving, flirtatious or downright suggestive text from him brought back the life to Carla's eyes when she was in the privacy of her bedroom. She certainly wasn't one for playing hard-to-get, responding within seconds before sitting back and waiting impatiently for Liam's reply. This had become a daily ritual, the few hours that she spent her mornings and afternoon at work counting down to. That day, Liam was acting particularly allusive, the pair of star-crossed lovers having been apart for a week due to family commitments. Her parents practically had her under house arrest; if she wasn't with Tony in his luxury bachelor pad, furnished with chandeliers and black silk bedsheets, she was at home and locked in her bedroom. The walls were too paper-thin for a telephone conversation to be feasible, so the only contact that she had with her secret lover was purely technological. After responding to a question of what she was wearing at that precise moment with a description of minimal clothing that she didn't own, Carla leant back against the mattress and placed her head on the pillow, staring up at the familiar swirls of the ceiling above. A firm rap of knuckles and the screech of her name jolted her from her intense thoughts, and as her mother wandered into the room, Carla's brow furrowed in confusion. Her mother never visited her without a good reason.

"Carla, honey…" her mother murmured in an unnaturally soothing tone, moving to sit beside her on the bed. Hastily, Carla slid her phone into her lap in case a message from Liam appeared.

"What?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh yeah, on top of the flamin' world. My brother's just been murdered and I'm being kept prisoner in my own home, but, you know, I'm still smiling," Carla scoffed, though she altered her tone as a pang of guilt rushed over her, "Sorry, Mum. It's just been a rough day."

"I know, love, I know. But, I've got some news that is really going to cheer you up!" her mother beamed, resting a hand on her daughter's knee. Carla frowned, suspiciously.

"Go on…"

"The wedding's booked! For two weeks time!"

"… What wedding?" Carla asked, puzzled. Her mother chuckled airily in response, evidently amused by Carla's comment.

"You wedding, sweetheart! Your father finalised the details with Tony last night, the venue's booked for next Saturday. Oh, Carla, it's beautiful, you'll-…"

"I'm not getting hitched," Carla replied, curtly, her face draining of colour as she pictured herself as a blushing bride, with Tony on her arm rather than the man she was really in love with.

"Wh-… What do you mean, darling? You want this, you and Tony have been planning the wedding for ages…"

"Yeah. _Me and Tony_. Not Dad. He's got no right to prance about interfering with my wedding, I'm not a little girl!"

"Right, well, you can tell him so yourself, because I'm not being the messenger this time!" her mother exclaimed, cupping her hand beside her surgically-enhanced mouth, "Stuart! I need you in here!" Within moments, Carla was able to hear heavy footsteps pounding on the staircase, seconds before her bedroom door swung open and her father stepped inside, his arms folded across his chest in a display of patriarchy.

"Have you told her, Clarissa?"

"She's not having any of it. Says it's for her to sort out, not you."

"Typical. She's being a selfish little bitch, as per usual," Carla's father sneered, approaching his only remaining child and gripping her bent chin in his hand, tipping her head back to look him in the eye and causing her to choke in response, "You don't care about me and your mother, do you?! Look at her, look how much she needs this distraction!"

"When you start caring about me, I'll consider caring about you!" Carla retorted, her eyes narrowing viciously as she grabbed hold of her father's wrist, wrenching herself free from his grasp, "This isn't the 1800s! You can't go around trying to arrange my marriage and playing Mr Puppet Master with my life! When Tony and I want to get hitched, we will. Not when you want us to."

"Oh, don't make me laugh, you couldn't arrange a wedding if someone were paying a grand an hour! Tony says you're not bothering. He says you're not even showing up to meetings. That your heart isn't in it, not that your heart matters. Do you know how good this marriage will be for the business?" her father asked. Carla snorted.

"Oh, here we go. The real reason you're trying to marry off to some Scotch snob who doesn't understand the art of gameplaying and is creepily into all that old-fashioned romance lark. It isn't because it'll set me up well for the future, it's because it can fuel your silly little underwear business."

"Young lady, you know damn well that that business _is _your future. You need to grow up and start thinking about where you're going to be in ten years time, where you'll be working, how much you'll have in the bank, whether your children are going to the local dump or a fancy boarding school."

"Yeah, so I like having that kind of choice. And I love the posh clothes and Louis Vuitton handbags and Louboutin shoes. But I'd give up all of that to be with somebody I actually had feelings for – I'm not heartless like you and Mum!" Carla cried in response, her eyes flashing dangerously as she observed her father raise his hand slightly before being promptly halted by her mother, "You nearly lost it there. I shouldn't even be living with you. Now please, before this gets any more out of control, get out of my bedroom." Carla was pleasantly surprised by her triumph as her father shot her one final venomous glare before storming out of the bedroom, followed swiftly by his ever-obedient wife. Carla let a clearly irritated growl pass her lips as she grabbed her phone from her lap and began to furiously type out a message. She couldn't believe that her parents were still treating her like a young child rather than a fully-grown woman, locking her in her 'cage' and refusing her contact with her friends, who were supposedly a 'bad influence' on her. She wasn't having it any more.  
_'Hey handsome. Big bust-up with the 'rents. Need to see you tonight. Eleven, second window on the left? 1433xxx.  
_Impatiently, she tossed her phone to the bed and waited for a response. She didn't care about the thin rules of her bedroom or her parents' ability to hear her so much as breathe during the night. If they didn't like it, then it was no concern of hers. She was delighted as her phone trilled within the minute with an excited text from Liam:  
_'Evening, beautiful. I'll be there. 14323xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'  
_Carla breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that one of Liam's famous cuddles would cheer her up greatly. He'd understand. He'd listen to her and empathise, and hopefully offer a few suggestions as to what to do with nightmare parents. After all, he was the only other person that she could consider a close friend that knew what it was to be the offspring of a millionaire; a trust-fund baby.


	14. Chapter 14

**Here we go! There might not be an update for a couple of weeks because I'm going o y! :D**

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A sharp knock on her bedroom door penetrated Carla's deep thoughts of her current situation and her few possible paths out of it. Her body jarred and she quickly pushed herself up as, without waiting for permission, the door creaked open and in stepped the tall, brooding figure of Tony Gordon, his expression solemn and his dark eyes so full of pain and hurt.

"You should have knocked…" Carla grumbled, pulling her knees to her chest to conceal her tiny skirt from his view, her stomach lurching at the mere thought of his beady eyes scanning her scantily clad form, "I could have been getting changed."

"So? It's not like I haven't undressed you a thousand times before…" Tony murmured in response, his lips twitching as his eyes filled with lust, causing Carla to shudder. She hadn't felt anything for him since Liam had wandered into her dreary life, especially not when he was treating her as a sex machine.

"Didn't you get the memo? The wedding's off, Tony. It's over," Carla snapped, bitterly, rolling over onto her side so that she was facing the wall and curling up into the foetal position, closing her eyes in hope that he'd have disappeared by the time she opened them again. No such luck. She flinched as she felt a warm hand on the small of her back, the sickly sweet scent of mint breath tickling the hairs of her arms, an indicator that Tony was trying too hard once again.

"Come on, my darling. What's wrong? You know we're a great team. It's not like this is an arranged marriage…"

"But it is, isn't it? My dad's arranging it all. I wouldn't be surprised if he and Mum came along on the honeymoon."

"We've been engaged for ages. It was your call. And if you're just not ready to get married, we'll wait. I can explain that to your dad…" Tony offered, sliding his body to lie beside her, his chest pressed into her back. He brushed a finger across her cheek and used it to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before whispering beside it, "We could still move in together. This isn't the 1930s, it's not like you're expected to save yourself for your wedding night…"

"What if I just don't want to marry you, 'ey? Have you ever stopped to think that that might just be the case?" Carla asked, her tone still hostile and cold as she wished more than anything that he would simply take the hint and leave her to wait for her secret lover in peace.

"No, I haven't. Because I know you wouldn't have accepted my proposal if you didn't want to marry me."

"You didn't exactly put me in the easiest of positions, Tony. Popping the question in front of my entire family meant that I wasn't given a lot of leeway…"

"So what are you saying? Are you saying that you never wanted to marry me, even when we'd just started out and everything was so fresh and easy?" Surprised, Tony furrowed his brow and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could attempt to read her blank expression. Carla gave a little sigh and rolled over to face him, trying not to meet his eyes.

"I don't know what I'm saying, to be honest. I don't know what I want or how I feel or even what I'm doing here. All I know is that I'm not ready to get hitched just yet. I'm twenty-two. I want to be my own person before I become somebody else's." Tony nodded slowly, his shoulders shrugging as he regrettably accepted her decision.

"Fair enough. I'll go and let everyone know that the wedding's off. I'll give you a ring later, darling…" Tony muttered, touching a fleeting kiss to her lips before getting to his feet and trudging out of Carla's bedroom, closing the door tightly behind him and leaving Carla to play the nerve-wracking waiting game once again.

* * *

An hour or so later, Carla heard a gentle tapping at her bedroom window. Puzzled, she flung herself to her feet and pulled back the curtains, only to be greeted by the grinning face of Liam Connor standing in the front garden, a floor below, clasping several little pebbles in his fist. Quickly, she unscrewed her window latch and threw open the window, leaning out of it just enough that she could speak to him.

"Oi! Are you stupid or something?! You could have smashed it in!" she hissed, her eyes wide with panic as she heard a clink of glasses and a low rumble of laugher from the living room, suggesting that her parents had yet to retire to bed. It was dangerous for Liam to be hanging around in full view.

"I couldn't exactly knock on the front door, could I?!" Liam pointed out, dropping the stones to the floor and sprinting in the direction of Carla's bedroom, standing directly below her window. Before Carla could ask how he planned to reach her, he placed his foot on the window ledge of the kitchen below and hooked his fingers on the brick above before hoisting himself up onto it. Carefully, he studied the remainder of the wall that he would have to climb and shuffled over to the bush, using it as the next step up.

"Are you nuts?!" Carla cried, her front teeth sinking into her lower lip as she watched the action movie play out in front of her, terrified for Liam's safety. As he raised his arm, his shirt was tugged up, revealing the ripple of a toned stomach and the waistband of his designer boxers. She couldn't help but admire the view, the thought of cuddling up to his warm body making her significantly less cautious of his plan. Being practiced in the art of rock climbing, it took Liam a mere few minutes to clamber up the wall and eventually swing into Carla's bedroom, breathing out a sigh of relief as his feet touched the hot pink carpet.

"Come here often?" he teased, stepping towards her and snaking his arms around her waist, his thumbs lightly massaging the centre of her back.

"You're an idiot. You could have fallen, or worse, been seen…" Carla complained, though, regardless, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head so that their foreheads were pressed lovingly together.

"But I didn't. And I'm here now…" For a few moments, no words were spoken between the pair. Instead, the space between their lips gradually deceased before they eventually brushed together, locking their unison. Suddenly, Carla was very grateful for the noisy commotion downstairs, knowing that it would distract her parents from their longing to be watching her every move.


	15. Chapter 15

**This update is a bit short and full of clichés - not my favourite, but I haven't updated for ages! Let me know if it's okay for you! :)**

* * *

Liam stirred, the sound of false laughter piercing through his dreams and bringing him back into the real world. Carla was still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath, a timid smile playing on her lips. Liam tried to concentrate on her; he tried to count her breaths, to watch how her hair fell across her cheek as she slept, framing her face and stunning features. He couldn't focus. Every time he heard the cold laughter, the nattering, the raised voices downstairs, a shudder coursed down his spine. He shouldn't be there. He felt out of place. He knew that Carla's mother could appear in her bedroom doorway at any second, horrified to find her only daughter in bed with the enemy, their clothes strewn across the floorboards, their limbs entwined. He'd be dead before he could explain himself, and that wasn't a risk he was willing to take, no matter how beautiful Carla looked when she was in her little dreamworld. With a heavy sigh, he swung his legs over the side of his feet and reluctantly rose to his feet before beginning the panicked, naked search for his discarded articles of clothing. He found his boxers within seconds, soon followed by his shirt, tie and blazer. His shoes had been tossed beside the door. His trousers, meanwhile, were nowhere to be seen. He swore under his breath as he crouched to his hands and knees, checking under the bed for any sign of them. Nothing. As he slid his hand underneath the bed and patted the floor, he heard a silky laugh coming from above. He sat up straight, his fear-filled eyes meeting the mischievous ones belonging to Carla, who had her hand raised and his trousers dangling teasingly from her index finger. Liam pursed his lips, clambouring back onto the bed again.

"You little minx…" he murmured, his voice husky as he began to crawl towards her, causing her to shuffle backwards to the very end of the bed. Suddenly, Liam pounced, throwing his body over Carla's as she hugged the garments close, giving an excited little squeal. His fingers went to work on her body, tickling some of her weakest, most sensitive spots; her feet, the backs of her knees, her stomach, her arms, her neck. By this point, she was rolling around in utter hysteria, a spine-tingling cackle escaping her parted lips. Liam continued to wrestle with her until he'd retrieve his clothes from her grasp, though, instead of slipping them on, threw them to the floor, moved his hand underneath her neck and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips. She whimpered. He'd won. He traced his tongue along the outline of her lips, guiding them open, before allowing its tip to meet hers. His hand, meanwhile, roamed her naked body, paying special attention to obvious areas. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her fingernails clawing at the skin of his back as his kisses peppered her jawline before trailing down her neck, stimulating a pleasurable moan.

"Carla!" came a harsh cry up the staircase, causing the lovebirds to leap away from each other in panic, "Carla, love, are you coming down for breakfast?"

"Shit!" Carla hissed, hopping out of bed and speedily slipping on her dressing gown as Liam finished dressing himself, struggling to force on his laced shoes, "She'll be up in a second if I don't come down now!"

" I've got to go home."

"Can't you just hide out there somewhere?"

"As much as I'd love to, baby, my parents will be worried, too. Don't even get me started on Paul. I'll phone you soon, though, okay?" Reluctantly, Carla nodded, her expression turning sad at his words as she mumbled a feeble 'okay'. Liam slipped his finger underneath her chin and tilted it so he could look into her sparkling green eyes once more before he left.

"Hey. I love you," he whispered, sealing his declaration with a tender kiss.

"I love you, too…" came Carla's response, pressing her lips against his another couple of times before her mother's shrill voice echoed up the stairs once again, and Liam was forced to back away from his lover and duck out of the window. Carla sighed, collapsing down onto the bed, unable to watch him leave. It was the hardest part of their steamy affair. He called up to her to let her know that his feet had safely touched the floor, though the only reply he received was a deadpan 'goodbye'. Carla was heartbroken, as she appeared to be each and every time he left the room, or even turned away. She knew that she found him addictive, that the constant need for his presence could only backfire. She didn't care. She was spending mornings, evenings and afternoons alike wrapped up in his strong arms, protected from harm and the bitterness of the outside world. Those who thought that she should still be in inconsolable pieces. They would receive a nasty surprise if they were to catch a glimpse of how she had really been dealing with her brother's tragic death. She'd been sleeping with his killer. But not for one moment did she ever feel like a traitor; her brain was already boggled with the mixed emotions that she felt whenever she could smell Liam's familiar aftershave drifting through the room.

* * *

Liam, too, struggled with goodbyes, though nowhere near to the extent that Carla did. The only fact that he was well aware of was that he'd never experienced this kind of emotional attachment to the ghosts of ex-girlfriends past. Her face was on his mind twenty-four-seven, and when she was with him, it was as though he was finally satisfied. Soppiness was irrelevant. He would write it in the sky or shout it from the rooftops, make the whole world, their parents included, understand the truth. Force them to accept that their relationship wasn't a brief fling that would fade away within a matter of months. That they had a future, that, despite the tragic events that had recently rocked the Donovans to the core, they would be the ones to bring the two feuding families together. That, whether they liked it or not, he was madly in love, or even besotted, with Carla Donovan, and if the previous night was anything to go by, she felt the exact same way about him. They wanted to be together, with or without the backing of their respective parents. Full of clichés, Liam smiled to himself as he started down the street in the direction of his home. He would change before heading off to work to endure another of Paul's lectures about how Carla was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. Even a telling off from his beloved older brother wouldn't lower his spirits.


	16. Chapter 16

**Apologies that this isn't as lengthy as other chapters have been - it's taken me all week to get written as I've been in a show every night and at school during the day! I should be back to writing properly at the end of this months. I hope you like it, let me know! :)**

* * *

The quick drum of his pencil against his office desk was keeping Liam awake, his eyes heavy after a night of little sleeping at all. Mostly, he and his secret lover had stayed awake talking about nothing in particular, giggling until the very early hours of the morning. Their relationship wasn't purely driven by lust. The chemistry between them fizzed; their eyes were solely fixed on one another as if no other human existed. And he found that whenever she wasn't around, she played on his mind each and every second of the day, her beaming face a permanent picture. He didn't even glance up when his brother entered the room, his jacket slung over his shoulder as if he was casually strolling into the middle of a social gathering. He rolled his eyes as he watched Liam, engulfed in his vivid thoughts, not even having registered Paul's arrival, before dropping his jacket over the back of his chair and taking a seat. He waited a moment before making a sound.

"It's all good, bro. I've missed you to bits, too," he scoffed, resting his elbows on the desk and his chin atop his hands. Liam looked up, blinking madly, knocked from an intense trancelike state.

"Oh… 'Ey up, Paul. Good night, were it?"

"Not bad. Though I'm pretty sure it won't have a patch on yours. And how is Princess Peach herself this fine morning?"

"Steady. 'Cause if you're comparing me to the Italian stallion himself, you need to give me a chance to grow a moustache and hunt for a little red hat… 'Ey, does this make you Luigi?" Liam snorted, though his smug grin quickly fell as he caught sight of Paul's unimpressed expression,

"… Or the nasty villain, if you're going to give me another lecture…"

"I'm not going to give you a lecture," Paul replied, holding his hands up defensively, "I just know you're making a massive, massive mistake with that girl. You're risking your life all for a quick shag that you could get anywhere, Liam."

"It ain't like that. It's not just a 'quick shag'. Carla's different."

"Oh, flamin' hell. Don't tell me you've fallen in love with her or owt…" In response, Liam merely shrugged, a gentle scarlet colour filling his cheeks in embarrassment.

"So what? You don't know her, Paul. She's not like the rest of her family. She pretends to be, but underneath it all, she's kind, she's gentle, she's intelligent. She ain't just another one in a long line of birds."

"You're off your head, you are. You can't seriously think you've got any chance of a future with this woman? I can hardly see Daddy Donovan letting the kid who killed his son shack up with his daughter."

"Who says 'Daddy Donovan' needs to find out?"

"Oh, mate. You're not serious? What are you planning to do, run away with her?!" Paul scoffed, his head shaking in utter disbelief.

"If that's what it takes," Liam replied, nonchalantly, averting his eyes from Paul's and instead continuing with his work, flicking through numerous pages of a report from a recent buyer, which was predominantly positive, "Check out this email from McKearney's. They do nowt but sing our praises. We a flamin' good job with that one, bro."

"Don't change the subject."

"Paul, my love life is the least of our concerns. Let's focus on the task in hand, shall we?" Paul sighed before eventually admitting defeat, moving to his brother's side, as it should be.

* * *

Carla had never been able to understand the point of rolling into work at the crack of dawn when there were no meetings scheduled until after lunch. Then again, she hated the idea of skulking around at home with her father constantly breathing down her next, jabbing her with questions about what she was doing and who she was talking to even more. Since he'd discovered Liam potentially corrupting the mind of his little princess and the soon-to-be heiress of his beloved business, he'd been suspicious of every move his daughter made, every evening she spent out and every text message she received. He assumed it had something to do with the tyrant who was trying to steal her away from him. Usually, he wasn't far from the truth. As a bored Carla leant back in her desk chair and propped her designer stiletto-tipped feet up on the desk, she flicked once again through the file containing the company's top-secret sales figures, which were kept for the eyes of she and her father only. Naturally, they were of no use to her, being far from a mathematical expert. Instead, she dropped her phone into her lap and swiftly tapped out a text to her beloved before hitting 'send', a little smirk playing on her lips as she did so. Of course, she was entirely unaware of the consequences of her actions.

* * *

The chirp of ringing pierced the silence of the house. By this point, Carla's bedroom was a pigsty; clothes were strewn on the floor, and numerous items of evidence were scattered across her unmade bed. Romantic chocolates, empty condom wrappers and Carla's brand new Yves Saint Laurent scarf were just some of the various objects deemed 'suspicious' by her parents. They were studying her wardrobe contents when the phone shrilled. Both her mother and father spun sharply, their eyes quickly finding and falling to the lit-up screen hidden just under the bed. Clearly, it had been left there accidentally. It wasn't their daughter's. Furiously, Stuart Donovan stormed across the length of the bedroom and snapped it into his hand, instantly checking the screen. The words 'I love you. I need to see you tonight xxx' burned his eyes, and as he clicked away and found himself staring back at the beaming faces of Liam and Paul Connor, the sons of his arch-rival, a new kind of anger bubbled away inside him. He suddenly understood exactly why Carla had been so distant, so unwilling to speak to himself or his wife, why she had suddenly started receiving endless invites to all-night parties and could be found texting until the early hours of the morning: she had been secretly sleeping with Liam Connor behind the backs of her family. She was a traitor. She'd been revelling in the company of her own brother's cold-blooded murder. She had betrayed Rob's memory and had destroyed the age-old Donovan tradition of putting blood before anybody else. And there was no way on earth that her father was going to let her sly actions simply pass over his head.


End file.
